


Hope and Fire

by SylaiseTheHearthkeeper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Post-Episode: s05e10 Mother's Mercy, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Stannis Lives, Viewer satisfaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6510562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylaiseTheHearthkeeper/pseuds/SylaiseTheHearthkeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Theon escape into the forest, and meet an old, wounded, but surviving soldier. </p><p>Directly after S5E10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Posting at 4am :') I'd really love to write more of this, so watch this space I guess? Sorry for any format/spelling, this is much for my own satisfaction. Please enjoy <3

At the bottom of the wall, two figures lay in the snow.   
  
Dressed in barely more than rags, the cold chewed at their fingers and toes. There were aches and bruises from the impact, and at a glance, the red colour spilling from the girl's head looked like blood. But they were alive. So much so, that frantic heartbeats and fearful adrenaline rushed back in after a few moments of still, sharp shock.  
  
Sansa clambered upright, returning to a single-minded state of _escape_. Beside her, Theon tried to rise, the snow a more unfamiliar obstacle.  
  
"Get up, we have to _go_. Get up, Theon!" She tried to pull him up with a shaking arm.  
  
"Lady S-sa-sansa," he finally stood, biting out words. "We-we'll die out here. He'll--"  
  
"No, we can't. Come on!"   
  
Sansa yanked his arm, hoping to keep Theon, and not allow Reek back to the surface. His eyes were full of fear that latched on to her desperate determination like a last hope. They ran clumsily towards the cover of the trees. Once they were under the forest, the snow thinned out on the ground, and Sansa let go of Theon's arm. She kept a brisk pace, though they were both out of breath, running purely on a racing pulse.  
  
"...Hunt us down...the dogs will find us...arrows in the legs to keep us alive to bring us back..." Theon was muttering as he followed Sansa.  
  
"Will you shut up? L-look, it's nearly sundown - no one will see us in the dark." Her voice betrayed her confidence. "I grew up in these woods. So did you."  
  
He shook his head, but didn't say more.   
  
"Let's go north, towards the Wall. He'd probably expect us to get out of the North, and go to the Iron Islands or the Riverlands or something."  
  
"Are you sure...?" He asked quietly, huffing out his breaths.  
  
"No! Of course not." Sansa turned to glare at him despite tears welling in her eyes. "Do you...have any better ideas?"  
  
"I...I got us out of the castle. I-I-I gave us this chance..." Theon said after a silence. Sansa softened.  
  
"You did. Thank you."  
  
The two continued to trek in the cold and the growing, sinister darkness. It wouldn't be long until there was no sun, and they'd be forced to stop and make fire and sleep. Sansa only hoped that nothing in these woods could be worse than her bastard husband.  
  


* * *

  
His fire was small, crackling weak in the chill night air. He lay beside it, blood-stained armour only useful now for warmth, feeling exhaustion bury itself in his bones. His wounds were dangerous too, and he had no means of getting food.   
  
A sensible voice in his head told him he wouldn't make it to morning. Yet, a less-rational voice, sounding strangely like his daughter, told him that _he was still alive_. Stannis was compelled to believe it.  
  
As he slowly slipped into something sleep-like, he was woken in a sudden by a sound. His eyes snapped open, hand reaching for his blade. Silence settled again until: _crunch crunch_. Two steps. A person? A creature? _Crunch crunch_. His voice came out as a hiss.  
  
"Who is there?"  
  
The pause spanned almost half a minute before a series of steps sounded from one point. It sounded like two people, likely come to finish the job. Stannis brought himself up to full height, leaning on a tree and his sword when his entire body protested. He expected soldiers, or scouts at least, bearing the Bolton sigil.  
  
When two young, frightened faces stepped into the guttering light, Stannis heaved a breath. A girl and a boy, definitely older than Shireen, but not old enough to be out here alone.  
  
"Well?" He asked, "who are you? Where've you come from?"  
  
The boy eyed his sword, glancing nervously up at the girl, his teeth chattering. The girl was still, eyes fixed on his armour engraved with the Baratheon stag. She spoke with the tongue of a highborn.  
  
"My name is Alayne. This is... Mycah. We've fled from Winterfell after the battle."  
  
"Fled _from_ Winterfell? Why? The Boltons won."  
  
"It's...it's not safe for us there." Alayne stepped closer, then looked back at Mycah. "The Boltons are..."  
  
"Cruel. I know."  
  
She met his eyes, seeming to have judged him for his threat. "You fought for the Baratheons. For Stannis."  
  
"I did."  
  
The girl was about to speak again, but the boy's teeth chattered loudly once more. He hadn't spoken a word - and clearly depended on Alayne for guidance. Were they brother and sister? Stannis thought that was most likely, although the girl had unmistakeably red hair against Mycah's dull brown. At any rate, they were perhaps less likely to kill him than the night itself. He sat back down.  
  
"Sit. I have no supplies, so I can only offer the heat."  
  
Both wasted no time in edging close to the warmth and sitting apart from one another. _Maybe not siblings, then?_  
  
"Thank you, s-... Um, sir?" Alayne mustered a faltering smile "What's your name?"  
  
"...Davos. Not 'sir'." He ground out. There would be no need to endanger these children with his true identity.  
  
"Davos," she hugged her knees. "My father supported Stannis."  
  
"Oh, who is your father?"   
  
Alayne stared into the flame for a while, her red hair catching the light in an uncomfortably close familiarity. Eventually, she answered, "he died. Before the war even started."  
  
"I'm sorry." Stannis answered truthfully. Strange that he should find support only hours before his death. He didn't mention that she never gave her family name. It wasn't as if it mattered here and now. The boy, Mycah, began rocking gently, back and forth.   
  
"The Boltons tortured him," Alayne said by explanation. "He's been through a lot. I suspect I would've been next, too."  
  
"Where will you go now?"  
  
She frowned. "North, maybe. I have family on the Watch."  
  
He nodded, closing his eyes and picturing Davos at Castle Black, hearing of his death in battle. Alayne barely whispered.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I won't get very far. Battle wounds." His words strung out as he patted the gash in his leg.  
  
"You're hurt?" She was concerned, and there was something else in her voice. _Gods forbid she tries to play maester..._  
  
"I could--"  
  
"No. There's no need. I know when it's my time."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," she sounded a lot like Shireen. "If I can help, I will. I've seen to wounds before. What about your family?"  
  
He opened his eyes irritated. "Gone. My life ended at the battle today, girl. Leave it at that."  
  
"You'll let the Boltons keep the North? Don't you have a wife? A hometown?" Alayne pushed, and then Stannis knew what she was really asking. "What about us?"  
  
"You and your cripple must make your own way."  
  
"B-but we have no steel! No training to use it, either."  
  
"I said no. Find another bleeding soldier."  
  
"The Boltons will come looking for us. Ramsay, the bastard, who tortured Th--, Mycah."  
  
"Looking for a pair of strays? I doubt it."  
  
Alayne moved closer to him, eyes wide, desperate. "They _will._ Please."  
  
Stannis relented to look at her, young and afraid, probably never having faced worse than castle walls. She'd be dead by tomorrow sundown, and Mycah long before. Unless they had a sword hand who was looking for favours into the heavens... With a grunt, he scowled into the fire.  
  
"If I'm still alive by tomorrow, then by all means, fix me, if only for your father. But not in the night and dark."  
  
She was immediately placated, sparing a thankful glance above for the gods. Closer, she looked more and more like a child.  
"Thank you. Good night, Davos."  
  
Stannis let the sound of the fire, his company's breathing, and aching pain pull him back to unconsciousness. Mycah and Alayne soon huddled when the fire got lowest, whispering between themselves. He had no army, no council, no bannermen, and was losing his faith. If this girl could get him back to health, he'd have no real place to go.  E _xcept the Wall_ , a voice said in his thoughts, and he didn't know if it was sensibility or Shireen. Davos was there, and his loyalty was unshakeable. Thinking of the future, Stannis finally slept.  
  
The fire burned low until dawn broke. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos appreciated!


End file.
